fort were not good for it.

Mrs. Hilary stood looking down at the old shrunk figure, shaking a little
as she stood, knowing that she must be patient and calm.

"You will please allow me to judge. You will please let me take the steps
I think necessary to help my child. I know that you have no confidence in
my judgment or my tact; you've always shown that plainly enough, and done
your best to teach my children the same view of me...."

Grandmama put up her hand, meaning that she could not stand, neither she
nor her heart could stand, a scene. Mrs. Hilary broke off. For once she
did not want a scene either. In these days she found what vent was
necessary for her emotional system in her interviews with Mr. Cradock.

"I daresay you mean well, mother. But in this matter I must be the judge.
I am a mother first and foremost. It is the only thing that life has left
for me to be." (Scarcely a daughter, she meant: that was made too
difficult for her; you would almost imagine that the office was not
wanted.)

She turned to the writing table.

"First of all I shall write to Rosalind, and tell her what I think of her
and her abominable gossip."

She began to write.

Grandmama sat shrunk and old and tired in her chair.

Mrs. Hilary's pen scratched over the paper, telling Rosalind what she
thought.

"Dear Rosalind," she wrote, "I was very much surprised at your
letter. I do not know why you should trouble to repeat to me these
ridiculous stories about Nan. You cannot suppose that I am likely to
care either what you or any of your friends are saying about one of my
children...." And so on. One knows the style. It eases the mind of the
writer and does not deceive the reader. When the reader is Rosalind
Hilary it amuses her vastly.

4

Next day, at three p.m., Mrs. Hilary told Mr. Cradock all about it. Mr.
Cradock was not in the least surprised. Nor had he the slightest, not the
remotest doubt that Nan and Stephen Lumley were doing what Mrs. Hilary
called living in sin, what he preferred to call obeying the natural ego.
(After all, as any theologian would point out, the terms are synonymous
in a fallen world.)

"I must have your advice," Mrs. Hilary said. "You must tell me what line
to take with her."

"Shall you," Mr. Cradock enquired, thoughtful and intelligent, "find your
daughter in a state of conflict?"

Mrs. Hilary spread her hands helplessly before her.

"I know nothing; nothing."

"A very great deal," sa